


and in the end maybe i'll see you then

by dykeingale



Category: Escape from Furnace - Alexander Gordon Smith
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Execution Spoilers, Existential Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Missing Scene, Self-Reflection, Simon POV, end of life care, more so for me writing and reading this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeingale/pseuds/dykeingale
Summary: Things really don't seem so bad at the end of it all.Simon makes an introduction, Alex has few words to say, a friendly apparition offers his kind smile and hand to hold.
Relationships: Carl Donovan & Simon Rojo-Flores, Simon Rojo-Flores & Alex Sawyer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	and in the end maybe i'll see you then

**Author's Note:**

> this is a missing scene that explores simon's head space in the end of execution. its a piece ive had written for a while but never published.
> 
> this explicitly explores end of life care from the physical and existential perspective of simon dying, where he recounts his body shutting down in detail. i would advise making sure you're in a good head space to read this one.

It isn’t difficult to die. Simon knows this. The millisecond of a hairpin trigger gone wrong, the inevitable and quiet triumph of a disease ending it’s year long war, or a simply a decision that spares no exception.

The door of the ancient mansion swings shut behind him, and Simon takes a shuddering breath in an attempt not to lose it right then and there. With each step is a sickening snap and gurgle of remains that he tries not to think too hard of what were. He breathes through his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to avoid the ever growing stench of decay in the air. 

Around each corner, zipping around each tree, he tenses up, expecting a gun and its itchy trigger fingered host waved in his face, or the snarl of a berserker tearing up the land and anything disrupting its war path. There’s none of that really, though he hears the distant rustle of foliage or an abrupt snap and twist every so often, he doesn’t run into a single living being.

Even Alex remains silent in his thoughts.

He finds himself at the cliff’s edge, overlooking a plummeting drop down into the murky depths of the ocean. His stomach twists, and for a second, wonders if he should take matters into his own hands, sparing Alex the burden of his death and to spite Furnace’s prophecy. He would still die, but a technical fuck you to the old bastard. The thought makes him snort out loud.

He kicks a rock over the edge, tracking its descent until it disappears into a speckle, then the tiniest of ripples against the tide. That decides it. 

Simon ain’t no bitch, he was going to see things through to the very end.

There’s a cluster of trees a good ten meters or so from the edge, and he sits himself at the base of one of them, leaning his head back against the trunk, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves. The smell of death lingers everywhere, but he can still taste the salt of the seawater mist against his lips and loses himself to the natural hum of the island. 

Simon closes his eyes. The sunlight feels so warm now, and with the adrenaline crashing and fading from his system, he feels, so, so, tired.

“I don’t think we got a proper introduction.”

When Simon’s eyes open, the only word that bubble to the surface to describe the sight in front of him is: beautiful. 

That dazzling smile seems to grow in amusement at the thought. The boy attached to said smile sits cross-legged in front of Simon, head propped in his hand, his dark skin glowing and shimmering with golden light.

“A shame,” Simon shrugs, “Because I remember the dumb shit  _ you _ did way before Alex came and wrecked shop.”

Donovan laughs, his voice as clear as a bell chimes. “My reputation continues to precede me.” 

Simon can’t help his own grin in reply, studying Donovan’s angelic form. Alex had confessed to him that he would have this vision in his head back in solitary, the line between apparition and hallucination all the more blurred as time went on. Alex talks about him with reverence, the very memory of him bringing him the guidance to do the right thing. 

“What are you doing here?” Simon asks.

Donovan cocks his head, still smiling but regarding Simon quizzically, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Alex thought you could use a friendly face before you go. So here I am, the VIP treatment for a one Mr. Rojo-Flores.” 

“You’re telling me I’m dying, but Alex is gonna give me the Big D special before he lays me out?” Simon has never seen a spirit blush, or rather shimmer, before, but Donovan does it all the same as he rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation.

“Man, I’m going to kill Zee for that nickname.”

There’s a presence in his head again, and even though Simon knows Furnace is indisputably dead, the spike of alarm jumps through his heart, only for the panic to dissipate as quickly as it arrives. Alex’s whisper is infinitely quieter than Furnace’s ever was, as though he was sitting right next to Simon. 

_ Stop fighting.  _

“Way ahead of you, kiddo,” Simon mutters out loud, looking ahead with heavy lidded eyes. The shift is like a switch flicked on in his head, but the effects are slow and gradual. His head begins to feel faint, and with each breath comes an invisible weight on his chest, bordering on the edge of uncomfortable, but again, the panic that would resonate disappears before he can process it. 

He looks down to see Donovan’s hand intertwine fingers with his own, squeezing gently, and though he sees their hands together, pleasant numbness travels from his fingers and up his arm, until he can’t find himself feeling much of anything at all. 

Darkness surrounds the periphery of his vision and despite the fact that this is the end, he’s never known such peace. With the last bit of strength in him, his head lolls to the side, and Simon finds himself gazing upon Donovan’s glowing eyes, and his grin; small, soft, and assured.

“I got you,” he promises.

Donovan remains to be the brightest thing in the world, still visible and shining despite the darkness crowding over his vision like an aperture of a camera lens closing in on itself. Donovan speaks to him, or rather, he mouths the words to the quietest whispers projected into Simon’s mind. 

_ I love you, I love you, please forgive me. I’m sorry, I’ll miss you.  _

Donovan extends his hand, and Simon sees himself clasp it with his own two small, unscarred hands. Time crawls to a stop, a single second stretching into eternity.

_ Don’t apologise, Alex.  _

_ Love you too. _

Simon blinks, and nods towards that last pinprick of light. Warm hands beckons him forward with a pull that cannot be refused, and Simon rides the tide into the gentlest peace he’s ever known.


End file.
